


Aurora

by intheforestprimeval



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, natasha Loves rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheforestprimeval/pseuds/intheforestprimeval
Summary: Aurora-/noun/ - DawnNat finds a new beginning in SHIELDOneshot





	Aurora

**Author's Note:**

> This was gonna be like a full fic but then I decided I didn't like how I was introducing her character so here's a oneshot! Please enjoy!

Weeks had passed before she even began to think about dropping the various blockades formed by identities adopted and dropped in the blink of an eye. They had been her walls for her entire life, her safety, and now she started considering herself Natalia Romanova rather than Black Widow, and even longer before she changed Natalia Romanova to Natasha Romanoff. Both completely alien to her. The Red Room had built her up, taught her everything she knew, but it had also torn down her identity, until she was nothing but Black Widow, daughter of blood. Nat had never known anyone else, never felt at home in her mind. 

Her new name was almost the same and yet infinitely different from her birth name, even if she’d never really used it. The change of her name was both nothing and everything, a new name was something she took on missions constantly (not to mention a new persona), but it still marked leaving behind what she had been made while keeping who she was, or more accurately, could be.

It had been a while since she’d been to the triskelion last, and her first week back was wonderful. It was ironic, really, as it had been the first place she’d ever felt at home. That’s not to say that the imposing building in Washington D.C, with all its officials, and trained killers, and suits, and secrecy, was homey, it wasn’t, but it was the first place Nat had been accepted for Nat. Or, where nobody questioned her presence.

The red room had welcomed her with open arms, but there were no good memories, other than that one month one winter. She’d been simply not empty then, which was about as good as you can expect. Here, at least, she was left alone.

Other people passed by with naught but a nod, respectful and interested. It was nice not having to glance over her shoulder every second. She still did, of course. There were a fair amount of people there that hated her, even if they wouldn't dare try anything. Most were friendly, if a bit curt.

Silver and white halls glimmered as she walked through the almost empty halls on the way back to her room. She hadn’t been training, just stretching her muscles. And she felt calm, for the first time in a while. Which, as soon as she realized, set her on edge. Of course it did, she realized with a sigh. Of course it did. The red room was years in the past, but Nat doubted it would ever truly be gone.

Nevertheless, it was better to be alert in the triskelion than in an unfamiliar environment, usually one not so comfortable as this. The light colors made it feel warm, and Nat knew every inch of it. People had treated Natasha as a person, for the first time here, not just as a weapon(which she still was, and everyone knew, but it wasn’t what they cared about if they weren’t on a mission). This had thrown her off, their benignly cautious kindness, and kept her walls up longer. Nat had been brought to a small S.H.I.E.L.D outpost in Budapest originally, where she was locked up- obviously, they couldn’t have had a rogue assassin roaming- but visited often by the man sent to take her out, but ended up recruiting her, nonetheless. She would later learn him to be Hawkeye, or Clint to those who knew him personally. He had insisted she call him that.

She expected he’d be waiting for her back at her room, for their movie night. It had originally been a Friday night thing, but when they realized they were almost never at the base at the same time, they had decided on a movie-every-night-they-were-both-there policy. There really wasn’t that much to do at the SHIELD base. Once, she had had put the word “clubs,” in the suggestion box- written in a loopy handwriting from someone on her twelfth mission for the Red Room (that person was now dead, unfortunately). There really wasn’t a reason for that, but habit had prevailed. Last time she’d been there, almost six months ago, she had found no clubs, but a variety of hightech weapons relating to baseball bats in the weapons room. She was sure that Agent Samson had been the one to process that request. She had clarified, of course, what she meant in a new suggestion and a new handwriting, but since back, she hadn’t checked. Nat didn’t have much hope, though. Most people had actual lives outside of SHIELD, a family, friends, anything, and weren’t at the base outside of work much, and a club wouldn’t be very useful.

Who cared, though, really? Nat wasn’t good at human interaction. She got on pretty well with rabbits, though! A club would’ve been awkward, and she would've gone, but it still wouldn't be much of a community for her. Thankfully, her ruminating could wait, it was only bringing her down, and she had arrived at her room.

It was a lot less protection than she wanted and far more, she was used to none but her own mind and body, but it helped her sleep well, knowing she didn’t necessarily have to. One retinal scan and 4 digit password later, she was stepping into her room. Nat tossed her small bag onto her bed, then turned back around to lock her door.

As she pushed the door closed, she heard the quiet squeak of the a grate, and spun around, arms up in a fighting position, full alert, quickly going over where she had stocked things if she had to run. When she saw who it was, though, she almost murdered him anyway. Clint had just dropped down from the grate, and landed sitting on the edge of her bed, bouncing slightly from the fall. He had on black t-shirt and sweatpants, the former having an arrow pattern on it, and for some reason, goggles. The most surprising though, was that he was barefoot (was it not cold in the vents?), and had a family sized bag of chips in his hands, which he was munching on calmly, seemingly unaware that he had just scared Nat awfully. She knew better, though, he was a prankster, and knew she would think it funny afterwards. Nat was in fact, laughing slightly, very hoarsely, and between breaths, joked, “I’m going to kill you,” which seemed to...not scare him. He was completely unphased, and instead pulled a bag of popcorn out of a dark red knapsack she had not previously noticed. Idiot. It was right there, and the straps caused wrinkles in his shirt around his shoulders. She should have noticed. He simply raised his eyebrows, and questioned, “Ready for movie night? Or are you too manic.”

There was one thing about Clint that was stupid beyond all reason, though. It was going to get him hurt or killed one day, but he had seemed so nonchalant the one time that she brought it up that she just...never broached it again. She would never understand why, but for some inconceivable reason, Clint was not scared of Nat or anything that might come from knowing her.


End file.
